Poirot Loses A Client Part 18

She looked up at him.

"Anything more? I ought to be going." "Nothing that cannot be discussed later." Theresa moved towards the door. Poirot went on in a quiet voice: "There is a question of exhumation, it is true--"

Theresa stopped dead. The brooch fell from her hand to the ground.

"What's that?" Poirot said clearly: "It is possible that the body of Miss Emily Arundell may be exhumed." Theresa stood still, her hands clenched.

She said in a low, angry voice: "Is this your doing? It can't be done without an application from the family!" "You are wrong, mademoiselle. It can be done on an order from the Home Office."

"My G.o.d!" said Theresa.

She turned and walked swiftly up and down.

Donaldson said quietly: "I really don't see that there is any need to be so upset, Tessa. I dare say that to an outsider the idea is not very pleasant, but--" She interrupted him.

"Don't be a fool. Rex!" hPoirot asked: "The idea disturbs you, mademoiselle?" "Of course it does!

It isn't decent. Poor old Aunt Emily. Why the devil should she be exhumed?" "I presume," said Donaldson, "that there is some doubt as to the cause of death?" He looked inquiringly at Poirot.

He went on. "I confess that I am surprised. I think L^ that there is no doubt that Miss Arundell died a natural death from a disease of long standing." "You told me something about a rabbit and liver trouble once," said Theresa. "I've forgotten it now, but you infect a rabbit with blood from a person with yellow atrophy of the liver, and then you inject that rabbit's blood into another rabbit, and then that second rabbit's blood into a person and the person gets a diseased liver. Something like that." "That was merely an ill.u.s.tration of serum therapeutics," said Donaldson patiently.

"Pity there are so many rabbits in the story!" said Theresa with a reckless laugh.

"None of us keep rabbits." She turned on Poirot and her voice altered.

"M. Poirot, is this true?" she asked.

"It is true enough, but--there are ways of avoiding such a contingency, mademoiselle.""Then avoid it!" Her voice sank almost to a whisper. It was urgent, compelling.

"Avoid it at all costs!" Poirot rose to his feet.

"Those are your instructions?" His voice was formal.

"Those are my instructions." "But, Tessa--" Donaldson interrupted.

I She whirled round on her fiance. ^ "Be quiet! She was my aunt, wasn't she?

Why should my aunt be dug up? Don't you know there will be paragraphs in the papers and gossip and general unpleasantness?" She swung round again on Poirot.

"You must stop it! I give you carte blanche. Do anything you like, but stop it!" Poirot bowed formally.

"I will do what I can. Au revoir, mademoiselle, au revoir, Doctor." "Oh, go away!" cried Theresa.

"And take St. Leonards with you. I wish I'd never set eyes on either of you." We left the room.

Poirot did not this time deliberately place his ear to the crack, but he dallied--yes, he dallied.

And not in vain. Theresa's voice rose clear and defiant: "Don't look at me like that. Rex." And then suddenly, with a break in her voice: "Darling." Dr. Donaldson's precise voice answered her.

He said very clearly: "That man means mischief." Poirot grinned suddenly. He drew me through the front door.

"Come, St. Leonards," he said. "C'est drole, qa!'9 Personally I thought the joke a particularly stupid one.

XXV Lie Back and Reflect No, I thought, as I hurried after Poirot, there was no doubt about it now. Miss Arundell had been murdered and Theresa knew it. But was she herself the criminal or was there another explanation?

She was afraid--yes. But was she afraid for herself or for some one else? Could that some one be the quiet, precise young doctor with the calm, aloof manner?

Had the old lady died of genuine disease artificially induced?

Up to a point it all fitted in--Donaldson's ambitions, his belief that Theresa would inherit money at her aunt's death. Even the fact that he had been at dinner there on the evening of the accident.

How easy to leave a convenient window open and return in the dead of night to tie the murderous thread across the staircase. But then, what about ^e placing of the nail in position?

No, Theresa must have done that. Theresa, his fiancee and accomplice. With the two of them working it together, the whole thing seemed clear enough. In that case it was probably Theresa who had actually placed the thread in position. The/im crime, the crime that failed, had been her work. The second crime, the crime that had succeeded, was Donaldson's more scientific masterpiece.Yes--it all fitted in.

Yet even now there were loose strands.

Why had Theresa blurted out those facts about inducing liver disease in human beings? It was almost as though she did not realize the truth.... But in that case--and I felt my mind growing bewildered, and I interrupted my speculations to ask: "Where are we going, Poirot?" "Back to my flat. It is possible that we may find Mrs. Tanios there." My thoughts switched off on a different track.

Mrs. Tanios! That was another mystery!

If Donaldson and Theresa were guilty, where did Mrs. Tanios and her smiling husband come in?

What did the woman want to tell Poirot and what was Tanios's anxiety to prevent her doing so?

"Poirot," I said humbly, "I'm getting rather muddled. They're not all in it, are they?" "Murder by a syndicate? A family syndicate?

No, not this time. There is the mark of one brain and one brain only in this. The psychology is very clear." "You mean that either Theresa or Donlaldson did it--but not both of them? Did he get her to hammer that nail in on some entirely innocent pretext, then?" "My dear friend, from the moment I heard Miss Lawson's story I realized that there were three possibilities: (1) That Miss Lawson was telling the exact truth. (2) That Miss Lawson had invented the story for reasons of her own. (3) That Miss Lawson actually believed her own story, but that her identification rested upon the brooch--and I as I have already pointed out to you--a brooch is easily detachable from its owner." "Yes, but Theresa insists that the brooch did not leave her possession." "And she is perfectly right. I had overlooked a small but intensely significant fact." "Very unlike you, Poirot,"

I said solemnly.

"N'est-ce pas? But one has one's lapses." "Age will tell!" "Age has nothing to do with it," said Poirot coldly.

"Well, what is the significant fact?" I asked as we turned in at the entrance of the Mansions.

"I will show you." We had just reached the flat.

George opened the door to us. In reply to Poirofs anxious question he shook his head.

"No, sir, Mrs. Tanios has not called. Neither has she telephoned." Poirot went into the sitting-room. He paced up and down for a few moments. Then he picked up the telephone. He got first on to the Durham Hotel.

"Yes--yes, please. Ah, Dr. Tanios, this is Hercule Poirot speaking. Your wife has returned? Oh, not returned. Dear me....

Taken her luggage you say.... And the children.... You have no idea where she has gone.... Yes, quite.... Oh, perfectly.

... If my professional services are of any use to you? I have a certain experience in these matters.... Such things can be done quite discreetly.... No, of course not.... Yes, of course that is true...Certainly--certainly. I shall respect your wishes in the matter." He hung up the receiver thoughtfully.

if "He does not know where she is," he said thoughtfully. "I think that is quite genuine.

The anxiety in his voice is unmistakable. He does not want to go to the police; that is understandable. Yes, I understand that. He does not want my a.s.sistance either. That is, perhaps, not quite so understandable....

He wants her found--but he does not want me to find her.... No, definitely he does not want me to find her.... He seems confident that he can manage the matter himself.

He does not think she can remain long hidden, for she has very little money with her. Also she has the children. Yes, I fancy he will be able to hunt her down before long.

But, I think, Hastings, that we shall be a little quicker than he is. It is important, I think, that we should be." "Do you think it's true that she is slightly batty?" I asked.

"I think that she is in a highly nervous, overwrought condition.? ?

"But not to such a point that she ought to be in a mental home?" "That, very definitely, no." "You know, Poirot, I don't quite understand all this." "If you will pardon my saying so, Hasi tings, you do not understand at all!" "There seem so many--well--side issues."

"Naturally there are side issues. To separate the main issue from the side issues is the first task of the orderly mind." "Tell me, Poirot, have you realized all along that there were eight possible suspects and not seven?" Poirot replied drily: "I have taken that fact into consideration from the moment that Theresa Arundell mentioned that the last time she saw Dr.

Donaldson was when he dined at Littlegreen House on April 14th." "I can't quite see--" I broke off.

"What is it you cannot quite see?" "Well, if Donaldson had planned to do away with Miss Arundell by scientific means--by inoculation, that is to say--I can't see why he resorted to such a clumsy device as a string across the stairs." "En verite, Hastings, there are moments when I lose patience with you! One method is a highly scientific one needing fully specialized knowledge. That is so, is it not?" "Yes." "And the other is a homely simple method--'the kind that mother makes5--as the advertis.e.m.e.nts say. Is that not right?

"Yes, exactly.

"Then think, Hastings--think. Lie back in your chair, close the eyes, employ the little grey cells.55 I obeyed. That is to say, I leant back in the chair and closed my eyes and endeavoured to carry out the third part of Poirot's instructions. The result, however, did not seem to clarify matters much.

I opened my eyes to find Poirot regarding me with the kindly attention a nurse might display towards a childish charge.

^Eh bien?" I made a desperate attempt to emulate Poirot5 s manner."Well,55 I said, "it seems to me that the kind of person who laid the original b.o.o.bytrap is not the kind of person to plan out a scientific murder.55 "Exactly.55 "And I doubt if a mind trained to scientific complexities would think of anything so childish as the accident plan--it would be altogether too haphazard.55 "Very clearly reasoned.55 e Emboldened, I went on: "Therefore, the only logical solution seems to be this--the two attempts were Planned by two different people. We have I here to deal with murder attempted by two entirely different people." "You do not think that is too much of a coincidence?" "You said yourself once that one coincidence is nearly always found in a murder case." "Yes, that is true. I have to admit it." "Well, then." "And who do you suggest for your villains?"

"Donaldson and Theresa Arundell. A doctor is clearly indicated for the final and successful murder. On the other hand, we know that Theresa Arundell is concerned in the first attempt. I think it's possible that they acted quite independently of each other." "You are so fond of saying 'we know,5 Hastings. I can a.s.sure you that no matter what you know, I do not know that Theresa was implicated." "But Miss Lawson's story." "Miss Lawson's story is Miss Lawson's story. Just that." "But she says--" "She says--she says.... Always you are so ready to take what people say for a proved and accepted fact. Now listen, mon cher, I told you at the time, did I not, that something struck me as wrong about Miss Lawson's story?" "Yes, I remember your saying so. But you couldn't get hold of what it was." "Well, I have done so now. A little moment and I will show you what I, imbecile that I am, ought to have seen at once." He went over to the desk and opening a drawer took out a sheet of cardboard. He cut into this with a pair of scissors, motioning to me not to overlook what he was doing.

"Patience, Hastings, in a little moment we will proceed to our experiment." I averted my eyes obligingly.

In a minute or two Poirot uttered an exclamation of satisfaction. He put away the scissors, dropped the fragments of cardboard into the waste-paper basket and came across the room to me.

"Now, do not look. Continue to avert the eyes while I pin something to the lapel of your coat." I humoured him. Poirot completed the proceeding to his satisfaction, then, propelling me gently to my feet he drew me across the room, and into the adjoining bedroom.

"Now, Hastings, regard yourself in the gla.s.s. You are wearing, are you not, a fash- ionable brooch with your initials on it--- only, bien entendu, the brooch is made not of chromium nor stainless steel, nor gold; nor platinum--but of humble cardboard!" I looked at myself and smiled. Poirot is uncommonly neat with his fingers. I was wearing a very fair representation of Theresa ArundelFs brooch--a circle cut out of cardboard and enclosing my initials--A. H.

"Eh bien," said Poirot. "You are satisfied?

You have there, have you not, a very smart brooch with your initials?" "A most handsome affair,"

I agreed.

"It is true that it does not gleam and reflect the light, but all the same you are prepared to admit that that brooch could be seen plainly from some distance away?" "I've never doubted it." "Quite so. Doubt is not your strong point. Simple faith is more characteristic of you.And now, Hastings, be so good as to remove your coat." Wondering a little, I did so. Poirot divested himself of his own coat and slipped on mine, turning away a little as he did so.

"And now," he said. "Regard how the brooch--the brooch with your initials--becomes me?" He whisked round. I stared at him--for IF the moment uncomprehendingly. Then I saw the point.

"What a blithering fool I am! Of course.

It's H. A. in the brooch, not A. H. at all." Poirot beamed on me, as he rea.s.sumed his own clothes and handed me mine..

"Exactly--and now you see what struck me as wrong with Miss Lawson's story. She stated that she had seen Theresa's initials clearly on the brooch she was wearing: But she saw Theresa in the gla.s.s. So, if she saw the initials at all, she must have seen them reversed." "Well," I argued.

"Perhaps she did, and realized that they were reversed." "Mon cher, did that occur to you just now?

Did you exclaim, 'Ha! Poirot, you've got it wrong--that's H. A. really--not A. H.'?

No, you did not. And yet you are a good deal more intelligent, I should say, than Miss Lawson. Do not tell me that a muddleheaded woman like that woke up suddenly, and still half-asleep, realized that A. T. was really T. A. No, that is not at all consistent with the mentality of Miss Lawson."

"She was determined it should be Theresa," I said slowly.

"You are getting nearer, my friend. You ^member, I hint to her that she could not I really see the face of any one on the stairs, and immediately--what does she do?" "Remembers Theresa's brooch and lugs that in--forgetting that the mere fact of having seen it in the gla.s.s gave her own story the lie." The telephone bell rang sharply. Poirot crossed to it.

He only spoke a few noncommittal words.

"Yes? Yes... certainly. Yes, quite convenient.

The afternoon, I think. Yes, two o'clock will do admirably." He replaced the receiver and turned to me with a smile.

"Dr. Donaldson is anxious to have a talk with me. He is coming here to-morrow afternoon at two o'clock. We progress, mon ami, we progress."

XXVI Mrs. Tanios Refuses to Speak when I came round after breakfast the following morning I found Poirot busy at the writing-table.

He raised a hand in salutation, then proceeded with his task. Presently he gathered up the sheets, enclosed them in an envelope and sealed them up carefully.

"Well, old boy, what are you doing?" I asked facetiously. "Writing an account of the case to be placed in safe-keeping in case some one b.u.mps you off during the course of the day?" "You know, Hastings, you are not so far wrong as you think." His manner was serious."Is our murderer really about to get dangerous?"

"A murderer is always dangerous," said Poirot gravely. "Astonishing how often that fact is overlooked." "Any news?" "Dr. Tanios rang up." "Still no trace of his wife?" "No." "Then that's all right." "I wonder." "Dash it all, Poirot, you don't think she's been b.u.mped off, do you?"

Poirot shook his head doubtfully.

"I confess," he murmured, "that I should like to know where she is." "Oh, well," I said. "She'll turn up." "Your cheerful optimism never fails to delight me, Hastings!" "My goodness, Poirot, you don't think she'll turn up in parcels or dismembered in a trunk?" Poirot said slowly: "I find the anxiety of Dr. Tanios somewhat excessive--but no more of that. The first thing to do is to interview Miss Law son." "Are you going to point out that little error over the brooch?" "Certainly not. That little fact remains up my sleeve until the right moment comes." "Then what are you going to say to her?" "That, mon ami, you will hear in due course." I "More lies, I suppose?" "You are really very offensive sometimes, Hastings. Anybody would think I enjoyed telling lies." "I rather think you do. In fact, I'm sure of it." "It is true that I sometimes compliment myself upon my ingenuity,"

Poirot confessed naively.

(I could not help giving a shout of laughter.

oirot looked at me reproachfully and we set if for Clanroyden Mansions.

We were shown into the same crowded 1 sitting-room and Miss Lawson came bustling in, her manner even more incoherent than usual.

"Oh, dear, M. Poirot, good-morning.

Such a to-do--rather untidy, I'm afraid. But then, everything is at sixes and sevens this morning.

Ever since Bella arrived--" "What is that you say? Bella?" "Yes, Bella Tanios. She turned up half an hour ago--and the children--completely exhausted, poor soul! Really, I don't know what to do about it. You see, she's left her husband." "Left him?" "So she says. Of course, I've no doubt she's fully justified, poor thing." "She has confided in you?" "Well--not exactly that. In fact, she won't say anything at all. Just repeats that she's left him and that nothing will induce her to go back to him!" "That is a very serious step to take." "Of course it is! In fact, if he'd been an Englishman, I would have advised her--but there, he isn't an Englishman.... And she looks so peculiar, poor thing, so--well, so scared. What can he have been doing to her?

I believe Turks are frightfully cruel sometimes."

"Dr. Tanios is a Greek." "Yes, of course, that's the other way about--I mean, they're usually the ones who get ma.s.sacred by the Turks--or am I thinking of Armenians? But all the same, I don't like to think of it. I don't think she ought to go back to him, do you, M. Poirot? Anyway, I mean, she says she won't.... She doesn't even want him to know where she is." "As bad as that?" "Yes, you see it's the children. She's so afraid he could take them back to Smyrna.